


Relax (don't do it)

by Leafling



Category: Man of Steel (2013), Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Don't Have to Know Canon, Established Relationship, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Nonsense, Original Character(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship, which turns out not to be so "secret" after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafling/pseuds/Leafling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Screwing in your parents' kitchen... how classy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relax (don't do it)

"Let's have sex." Colin says. It's not a request, but it's not a demand either; it sits somewhere in-between, like a passive-aggressive relative giving backhanded compliments at Thanksgiving.

The suggestion is sudden, to say the least, making Clark lift his gaze from the book he's reading. He finds the other teen standing at the window, writing absentmindedly in the condensation forming on the glass, looking far too innocent for his own good.

Clark lowers the book to his lap and stares at the side of Colin's face as the other teen stares out the window intently, watching Martha out in the yard hanging clothes out on the line to dry. For the moment, quiet hangs over them like a storm cloud.

"My mom's home," Clark says matter-of-factly, breaking the silence.

Colin looks over his shoulder at Clark, and he'll be damned if he's not smirking because Clark didn't say _no_ yet. "We'll lock the door."

Clark rolls his eyes. Folding his arms, he gives Colin a pointed look. "She'll hear you."

Colin notices the use of _you_ instead of _us. _ He doesn't comment because he knows he's louder than Clark; that he's proud of being a screamer, actually. Gently drawing the curtain closed, Colin turns to Clark with a coy smile. "So I'll be quiet?"

"My bed's noisy," Clark supplies, shifting across the mattress to demonstrate his point. The wooden bedstead groans and the springs creak. Colin cringes at the sound. No matter how hot it'd be if Clark were to fuck him hard on the bed, (the screeching and squeaking of the bed coupled with Colin's own cries of pleasure)Colin agrees that it wouldn't be an option.

But, because Colin really, really wants sex, he doesn't leave well enough alone. Which is why he suggests they have sex in his car.

Clark rubs his eyes as though fatigued, but really he's stifling his chuckles. "Are you kidding?"

"Should I be?" Colin says sheepishly, shrugging.

"You're parked, like, two blocks away," Clark reminds, "it'll look suspicious if we were to just _leave_."

Colin's shoulders sag like he's about to admit defeat, "why're you shutting down all my ideas?"

― _"because they're bad?"_

"Look, if you don't want to do anything, you only have to say so." Colin says, pouting childishly.

Clark doesn't know whether it would be nice to laugh or not because Colin's frustration is more comical than anything.

"Who says I don't?" Clark counters, mostly expecting Colin to virtually _leap_ into his lap as he did. Any of Clark's protests are drowned out by the creaking of the bed; his resolve is almost completely taken apart by the way Colin frenziedly grabs the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep, desperate kiss.

It's hot, kissing like this. The room jumps a few degrees as they makeout for who knows how long. Colin's sinking his nails into whatever part of Clark he can reach, rubbing against Clark until he gets the message and starts rutting back with just enough force. Okay, now _this_ is hotter than just making out alone.

Clark's brows knit together as he pushes up into Colin's body, holding him tightly by the waist to keep the teen from squirming too much.

Aside from the quiet groan of the bedsprings and the increasingly labored sounds of Colin's breathing, the room was virtually quiet—the whole house is quiet, which is how both of the teens were able to hear Martha's noisy entrance.

The sound of the door banging against the wall is loud, to say the least, making Colin startle. " _Shit_ ," He gasps when they pull away. Not knowing what to do, Colin just sits there grasping urgently at Clark’s t-shirt, stretching the neckline unattractively. Biting his lip, Colin watches Clark glance around the room, the other teen listening to the sounds of Martha shedding her coat and boats at the door. It's quiet again, but Colin resists the urge to reinitiate the kiss because Clark's got this look on his face like he's concentrating.

"What?" Colin whispers, squirming as Clark’s strong hands gripped his waist a little harder than necessary. The other teen didn’t know his own strength at times; often leaving light almost-bruises and the faintest suggestions of fingerprints on Colin’s skin whenever he wasn’t careful... not that either of them minded, really.

Straining his ears, Colin faintly picked up on Martha's humming and the weird sounds her house-shoes made as she walks across the living room floor. Tension drains from his posture as he hears the kitchen door swing open with a resounding squeak. Colin remembers that it's approaching dinnertime, that Martha will probably be more concerned with cooking than what they're doing.

Sure that they would be left alone, Colin rolls his eyes, shifting in Clark's lap until he can reach the other teen's belt. "Now... where were we?" He asks.

Clark fixes Colin with a wide-eyed look at hearing his voice; almost as if he’s just realized that the teen’s been sitting in his lap the entire time. Clark catches Colin's wrists before the other teen can pull Clark's belt free from the loops. He gives Colin with a stern look.

"What?" Colin whines, deflating under Clark's gaze as he tries, and fails, to rescue his hands from Clark's vice-like grip. "Oh, _come on_ , you still think she's gonna walk in on us?" When the other's mouth sets in a firm line, Colin scoffs, "it's not like she's gotta Spidey-senses, Clark..."

Sighing when Clark doesn't relent, Colin presses a quick peck on Clark's mouth, " _pretty_ _please_?"

Clark looks torn, like he's about to give in. Then they hear the kitchen door swing open again, followed by Mrs. Kent decidedly loud telephone conversation. All chance of getting laid goes out the window.

"No," Clark says, rolling Colin off his lap with one swift movement. Depositing the slighter teen on the mattress, Clark springs to his feet and moves to the bedroom door, putting as much space between them as possible. "I’m not doing this while she’s in the house." He declares resolutely.

Colin sits up on his elbow, mouth falling open to protest. "But—"

"Colin," Clark’s resolve is unrelenting this time.

The smaller teen concedes. Rolling onto his stomach, he burrows his face in Clark’s pillows to stifle any unhappy sounds. They listen to Martha trade gossip with neighbors; the noisy clatter of pots and pans, the clink of cutlery and tableware as she washes dishes.

After what feels like a half hour passes without anything happening, Colin sits up and glares at Clark. "You hear that? That's the sound of her not caring. Think of all the things we could've done in the time she's been on the phone!"

Clark sits down in his desk chair. Clicking on the lamplight, he turns his attention to his homework. It isn't due until next week but it's not like he has anything to do. "I already told you, Colin, we're not doing anything."

"Okay, fine, whatever..." Colin grumbles, resting his head in the cradle of his arms.

He doesn't know when he dozed off, but Colin's eyes flutter open all the same when Clark shakes him awake. His vision is blurry around the edges as the room around him comes back into focus. Colin wipes the crust from his eyes, sitting up slowly as if his bones weigh a ton. Clark, on his way to the door, tells him that it's time for dinner and that Martha wants him to wash his hands and face.

Yawning, Colin does as he's told and later joins everyone at the dinner table.

Jonathan is just in from work when Colin gets downstairs. He looks exhausted as he shrugs out of his outerwear, but he greets Colin like he's a part of the family; mussing up the teen's already messy hair as he walks by. Kissing Martha on the cheek, he asks how everyone's day was.

Colin feels as though he could fling himself from a window because Clark's parents are the epitome of domestic and coming from one of the most unstable households he can think of, Colin isn't thrilled to see them kiss and hug like normal husbands and wives. _But that's neither here nor there._ Agonizing over the way Mr. and Mrs. Kent get along is hardly a priority as Colin seats himself at the table.

Colin's chair is pushed too close to Clark's because the table is only for three chairs, not four; maneuvering into it without brushing inappropriately close to Clark is practically impossible.

Colin's nap had helped to take the edge off his arousal—however, unfortunately, he's still a teenager after all; it doesn't take much more than the ghost of Clark's fingertips against his lower back to get Colin's pulse hammering anew. He's rock hard in a fraction of a second; desire reignited by a barely-there touch.

Colin's face flushes a deep shade of red. He quickly raises a hand to his face, trying to hide his blush as he crosses his legs under the table to avoid having his thigh pressed up against Clark's.

His erection doesn't very much like the newfound position of his legs, it throbs in protest. Colin tries not to squirm because he knows he already looks suspicious.

Martha fixes Colin with a worried look. She asks if he's feeling okay because, _"Colin, Dear, you look flush."_

Jonathan is helping himself to bread rolls and whatever else Martha has prepared. He's completely unaware of anything other than what he's saying as he goes on about his rather uneventful day working. Clark's nodding and humming in agreement whenever the time calls, used to the way his father droned on; never asking for input or opinions, only to be heard. Colin is thankful for their obliviousness.

Shaking his head, Colin assures Martha, "I'm fine, thanks." And then he makes a mental note to avoid eye contact with Mrs. Kent for the rest of his life. Feeling his stomach do flips, Colin picks at the roast beef on his plate with his fork. Increasingly aware of Martha's eyes on him, Colin lets his hand drop into his lap and tries to look like he's not about to crawl out of his skin.

"Are you hungry?" Martha asks because she worries like a hen and is as persistent as a hawk.

Colin tries to think about food and how he hasn't eaten since school let out, but he finds that his appetite is nearly non-existent. His pulse is pounding in his ears now; all the blood in his head rushing south. Suddenly he can smell Clark's cologne; it's making it hard to focus on anything other than how much he wants the other teen right now.

Swallowing heavily, Colin musters a smile. He doesn't know what to say, one wrong word and Martha will be spending the entire evening coddling him. Or worse—Mrs. Kent will call his aunt, tell her that he's come down with some kind of stomach virus, and next thing he'll knows, he'll be riding in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s pickup back to his house. All the while, Colin's so horny, he's on the verge of a heart attack.

Colin's lucky that Jonathan isn't listening to his and Martha's conversation because without the older man's interruption, Colin would be left floundering for words like an idiot.

As Mr. and Mrs. Kent fall into their regular conversation, Colin sinks back in his chair and nibbles idly at whatever turns up on the end of his fork.

Clark's thigh bumps into his own, out of nowhere, making Colin startle so bad that he almost stands and upended the table; the dishes rattle on the table as his knees hit the underside of it.

The looks he receives from Mr. and Mrs. Kent makes Colin apologize profusely. The not-quite glare that Clark shoots him makes Colin's blood run cold. "Sorry," Colin repeats curtly, feeling like everyone's out to get him.

Somehow he's able to make it through the rest of dinner (and dessert) without causing any more trouble. Colin breathes a sigh of relief when Martha asks Clark to do the dishes so she can get ready for bed. Jonathan disappears to the living room to watch the game, meanwhile, not wanting any part of cleaning.

Turning on the faucet, Clark deposits dishes into the sink and sighs. Looking over his shoulder at Colin clearing off the table, he can _see_ just how hot and bothered the other teen is.

And Clark feels bad for rebuffing him despite his own misgivings. Clark tries to keep a straight face listening to Colin grumbling pitifully to himself, the other teen's hands trembling as he collects dishes from the table, body language screaming his discomfort, his need for some kind of relief. An idea flits into his head and before Clark can stamp it out, he's already formulating ways to bring his plan to fruition.

A quick glance around the house with his x-ray vision and Clark can see that his parents are preoccupied with their tasks. _Is it an abuse of his powers?_ Maybe. Right now it doesn't matter.

Clark waits for Colin to put away their leftovers. As soon as the refrigerator closes, he pounces. Grasping the teen by his hips, Clark interrupts Colin’s gasp of surprise with a quick kiss as he crowds him up against the nearest wall.

Colin’s eyes are wide with disbelief. _Clark was… kissing him?_ He isn’t sure why Clark has decided that _now_ is a good time to make-out when Jonathan’s just in the other room, but Colin doesn't think he'll lose any sleep over it.

Moaning pleasantly, Colin lets his eyes flutter closed. The kiss grows increasingly passionate as they fight for the upperhand, tongues clashing hungrily. Clark's hands grip Colin tighter, his fingers pressing into the sensitive hollows in Colin’s bony hips.

Colin moans into Clark’s mouth, kisses back as hard as he can. _It's thrice as intense as earlier;_ Colin decides, craning his neck until his and Clark’s mouths are fitted perfectly together.

Colin digs his nails into Clark’s shoulder blades, earning a deep rumbling groan from the larger teen. Shifting as much as he can pinned against the wall as he is, Colin manages to get one of his legs around Clark's waist. The new angle has his and Clark's erections pressed hot against each other; the friction sends white-hot bolts of pleasure through the two of them.

The sensation is intoxicating; leaving Colin's whole body pulsing as he rocks his hips against Clark and emits these broken, shuddering moans and pleas.

Clark grunts and groans in response, trying to focus on kissing when all he wants is to lay Colin across the counter and fuck him until he can't remember his name. As the slighter teen's heel digs into the back of his leg, Clark is more than tempted to do exactly what he's thinking.

" _Oh_ ," Colin exclaims breathlessly, finding himself suddenly sprawled out across the cold countertop.

Clark shushes him, looking around the kitchen cautiously before yanking Colin's shirt open carelessly. Buttons spray the surrounding area as lightly tanned-skin is freed from oppressive cotton. Colin has half a mind to complain about Clark ruining his favorite flannel shirt; however, any attempt to protest forgotten when Clark starts sucking dark red hickies into his neck.

A whining, almost gasping whimper falls from Colin's trembling lips as he arches into Clark; bearing more of his neck for the larger teen's questing mouth. Colin feels like he’s melting as Clark nips hard at his pulse-point.

Biting his knuckles to try and muffle the wanton little sounds he's making, Colin almost forgets that he needs to breathe. Luckily, Clark's happy to remind him. Keeping Colin thoroughly distracted as he suckles at his neck, Clark sneaks a hand betwixt their abdomens and surprises Colin by roughly fisting his cock through his jeans. Colin chokes as he inhales sharply, skin prickling as he sucks in precious oxygen. Colin's hips bucking into the warmth of Clark's palm on their own accord; he's losing control of his body with every wave of pleasure that washes over him.

Clark's surprised by how quiet Colin is. A part of him is agonizing over this fact because he relishes how vocal Colin is, how unashamed he is to let Clark know just how he likes to be touched, kissed or fucked. Clark tries not to pay the silence any mind. No matter how badly he wants to hear Colin moan his name, Clark wants just as much not to get caught.

Listening to Colin’s barely stifled, unintelligible pleas, Clark begins stroking Colin's erection teasingly slow, _unbearably slow_ ; driving Colin insane because he's so hard that it hurts.

" _Cl...ark_ ," Colin pants as quietly as he can against his fingers, wriggling and writhing so much that he almost looks like he’s being tickled. " _C'mon..._ " is his unspoken plea as Colin’s legs tense around Clark, drawing him closer until he's effectively trapped.

Their eyes lock then. Irises an almost alien shade of blue meet brown ones darkened by desire to the point of blackness and, _whoa,_ it's like Clark can see into Colin's mind, into his soul; everything he has to offer and more. It overwhelming, like a tidal wave crashing overhead. Clark feels like he's losing himself, his heart flutters. How is it that, _he, of all people_ , is effected so much by this? _He's an alien with super powers._

Colin's the first to break eye-contact. Sitting up on his elbows, he hooks an arm around Clark's neck and pulls him down so that he can kiss him again and again until Colin's gasping to catch his breath. " _Fuck me_ ," he pants desperately.

It's a miracle they're able to get undressed with minimal fumbling; more so that they're able to do so quietly.

Clark's fingers are slick with olive oil from the cupboard. He reminds himself to never ever let his mother use it again as he presses his fingers inside of Colin's shuddering body, eliciting a groan that Colin can barely suppress as Clark stretches him with two fingers at once.

Clark knows they're working on borrowed time. Though Martha could easily spend thirty minutes soaking in the tub, eventually, the game would go to half-time and Jonathan would be up skulking around for a snack.

Ultimately, the preparation is sloppy and rushed but neither of them complains as Clark enters Colin in one smooth thrust.

Colin claps his hand on his mouth, biting his fingers so hard he breaks the skin. Clark's cock is perfect, finding his prostate without much effort. _Ahh, Finally…_ Colin thinks in utter relief, somewhere in the haze of his mind.

Clark's hand captures Colin's wounded one, pulling it free from his mouth so he can replace it with his own lips. Even with their mouths pressed so close, it does little to muffle the noise the smaller teen is making. Clark knows that, with Colin’s increasing volume, it’s only a matter of time before they’re caught. This in mind, Clark lifts Colin’s knees to his chest—momentarily stealing the slighter teen’s breath away as Clark bears down on him with most of his weight—prepared to quicken the pace of his thrusts.

Colin is barely given a chance to catch his breath before Clark starts fucking him mercilessly; any that he's managed to catch flees from him again, and suddenly it feels like his lungs are going to burst. Colin’s mouth falls open, but he can’t moan; can’t make a single sound because it’s so intense.

Clark's fucking him with a purpose and, having been on-edge already, Colin comes barely a moment later with a silent cry. His vision whites out; his whole body is quavering, muscles quaking as he's overwhelmed by pleasure.

Colin falls limp, chest barely managing to rise and fall as he tries to _breathe._ He’s completely wrung out; like he was struck by lightning and now his nerves are completely fried.

Clark's got it in him to go all night—perhaps even longer than that—but he comes all the same when Colin pulls him down for one final kissing, body tightening around Clark's cock like a vice as Colin strains up into him.

No matter how many times they do this, Colin still gets somewhat disgusted by the feeling of Clark emptying inside of him. He's easily distracted from this, however, by the gentle, shallow thrusts of Clark's cock as the larger teen slowly softens inside of him.

The two of them bask in post-coital bliss no longer than necessary.

As they’re pulling their clothes back on, Clark cleans them up with paper towels from the nearby spool. He's filled with boundless energy, ready to take on the world. Colin's grateful for Clark's attentiveness because he barely has the energy to lift his head, let alone climb off the counter. He's completely exhausted, ready to fall into bed and a blissful coma.

Uncoordinatedly, Colin barely manages to fasten his jeans on his own. He sinks off the counter and onto the floor afterwards because he’s too tired to stand. Lounging against the cabinets, Colin doesn’t give his discarded sneakers a second-thought, instead he lets his eyes close for a just minute.

Clark goes to resume his earlier task of cleaning the dishes. He hopes his father hasn’t picked up on how eerily quiet it's been in the entire time they’ve been in the kitchen. Turning on the water, he notices that Colin hasn't finished dressing. Rolling his eyes, Clark helps Colin onto his feet and then back into his shoes. Kissing him on the neck, Clark tells Colin to fix his shirt before he moves to dump dishes into the rising water. 

Colin mumbles tiredly to himself, neck tingling where Clark kissed him. He pulls his shirt closed, fingers seeking buttons. When he can’t find any of them, he pauses before regarding the side of Clark’s face with a glare. It lacks any heat, however; he’s too tired to be angry, really. "You... I can’t believe you…" He groans, looking between Clark and his shirt as he tries to think of something scathing to say. "This shirt was _new_..."

Clark looks sheepish. "You can borrow one of mine."

"Borrow? I'll damn well _keep_ it." Colin grumbles.

When they get through with chores, they end up in the Clark's bedroom as he turns it upside down looking for something that'll actually _fit_ Colin's narrow frame. Pulling one of Clark's old t-shirts over his head, Colin startles when Martha throws the door open. Her arms are heavy with towels and extra blankets, she looks around the room and then she smiles at Colin. "Your aunt says it's fine if you stay over." She says, stepping over clothes strewn about the floor. Offering Colin the toiletries, she makes a quip about Clark needing to clean his room.

"Thanks Mrs. K," Colin says attempting to sound more grateful than wary.

"You're welcome, dear." Martha smiles before heading out. Right before she pulls the door up, she tosses over her shoulder playfully: "try to get some sleep, you two?"


End file.
